


On The Village Green, or When I Was Seventeen...

by ununoriginal



Series: On The Village Green [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-24
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununoriginal/pseuds/ununoriginal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion fic to my other fic 'An Acquired Taste'. Snape's POV on their relationship and break-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_When I was seventeen, it was a very good year_   
_It was a very good year for small-town girls and soft summer nights…_   
_We would hide from the lights_   
_On the village green_   
_When I was seventeen…_   
_\----Frank Sinatra, ‘It Was A Very Good Year’_

***

I sit facing him, across the table, on opposite sides of a barrier that rises so high and sinks so deep I cannot see its ends.  
  
He can sense it too, that division – which is why he’s still there fidgeting and twisting his hands.  Face set in a miserable frown as he racks his brains for something to say that could diffuse the situation.  
  
Poor naïve Remus.  He still doesn’t get it.  Must be that hard-headed, rigid mindset they teach them at Gryffindor.  That foolish idea that if one tries hard enough, one will eventually overcome all odds and emerge ‘victorious’.  
  
You don’t understand, do you, Remus?  Nothing that you can come up with will ever remedy what has passed.  You can never ‘make it right’.  
  
And since he’s still floundering about needlessly, searching for the correct phrase to speak when there is none, I shall begin for him.  
  
“Dumbledore says you insisted on seeing me.”  
  
“Yes, I—”  
  
“I can’t imagine why.”  
  
“W-what?”  His gaze shoots up from the agitated fumblings of his hands.  His eyes are wide, fearful.  He is beginning to grasp the concept that things may not go his way after all.  It gives me a surge of satisfaction that I stamp down on immediately.  He shall not have the fortune to see that he has elicited a reaction – any reaction – from me.  
  
“It’s obvious from what has happened that you no longer want us to be together.”  
  
His face blanches at my words, pale features gaining an expression so stricken that for a moment, my heart almost succumbs and softens.  
  
But, no!  I inhale deeply, drawing the steam rising from my coffee – one of the few vestiges of my Muggle heritage – into me, letting the bitter scent of the espresso ground me, fuel me.  
  
He’s getting desperate, I can see.  He can’t read me anymore, he doesn’t know what I’m thinking, and that panics him.  He’s finally realising that he wasn’t special because he was the only one who was able to reach out and ‘connect’ with me.  
  
He was special because he was the only one whom I allowed to do so.  
  
***  
  
“How did you do it?”  The soft, curiosity-laced voice came from behind him, drawing his attention from the text on Dark Arts he’s managed to borrow from the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts School Library as part of his research.  
  
He returned the boy’s inquisitive, semi-friendly stare with a bemused one of his own.  “Excuse me?”  
  
“How did you do it?” the boy repeated, his eyes darting to the volume in Snape’s hand.  “How did you manage to get that book out?  You don’t have a teacher’s note.”  
  
Snape continued staring at the other boy for a few more moments, debating whether to call his bluff on such a lame conversation gambit.  With a small sigh, he relented.  “Sixth- & Seventh-years are allowed to take certain books out of the Restricted Section without prior permission from a teacher, if the research they’re conducting for their assignments pertains to the relevant areas,” he paused, glance flickering beyond the boy’s shoulder, “as it is stated on the notice that’s on the board behind your head.”  
  
At least he has the grace to look embarrassed, Snape thought absently as he brushed past the boy, making his way to the doors leading to the corridor outside the library.  
  
“Wait!”  
  
Snape halted, finally allowing some of his exasperation to trickle through.  He had really been impatient to delve into this latest text he’d managed to unearth among the countless tomes in the maze that was the Restricted Section.  “What do you want?!”  
  
He drew himself up to his full height as he turned to glare into the grey eyes of the sandy-haired boy a few steps behind him.  
  
“Well… I… I…”  The boy certainly seemed like he was having quite a bit of difficulty speaking.  
  
“Well, what?  Spit it out!”  Snape’s eyes darted around, trying to peer through the shelves and corners as an inkling of a suspicion grew in his mind.  He was now beginning to recall where he might have seen the boy before.  He was one of the Gryffindors, always seen in the company of James Potter and Sirius Black.  Lupan… Rupin, or something.  
  
He gazed warily at this minion of Potter and Black, wondering if this was another new prank they had conjured.  It wouldn’t have been a far stretch of the imagination – he’d been on the butt-end of their jokes several times already, ever since he’d made the mistake of insulting Sirius Black back in their Fourth Year.  The ironic thing was, Snape mused, he couldn’t even clearly remember the reason behind the initial verbal sparring.  
  
“Rupin” was still standing there, not making any progress with his muttering.  Reaching the ends of his patience,  Snape decided to go.  
  
“No, wait, I need your help!”  
  
Snape froze.  Now he was sure something was up.  Cautiously, he turned again to look the other boy in the face.  “Alright, what are you up to?” he demanded softly, advancing upon him.  
  
“What do you mean?”  The boy started backing away, looking a little alarmed.  
  
“If you need help, you could always ask your friends in Gryffindor.  Do Potter and Black think me so obtuse I’m unable to see through this patently transparent ploy?  So tell me, what are you up to?”  He punctuated the last few words with each approaching step, until he’d finally trapped the boy against the wall.  
  
“Oh, no!  It’s not a trick – I need help with my schoolwork.”  
  
Snape’s expression remained blank and impassive.  
  
“I mean, really, this year I’ve been having quite a few problems with the higher level curses and counter-curses, and those complicated potions,” he explained.  “Professor McGonagall spoke to Professor Dumbledore about it, and he suggested that I could ask you for help.”          
  
“You’re serious?”  Snape began to feel a bit of doubt.  The boy’s eyes looked so sincere, hardly like he was on the verge of unleashing some trick-spell.  And it had been quite a while and there was no sign of Potter nor Black.  He could feel himself relaxing half against his will.  
  
The boy nodded vigorously.  “Yes, I really do need to catch up, and trust me, Sirius and James are definitely NOT going to be able to help me with this.”  For some inexplicable reason, the wry smile that accompanied the statement dissipated his final misgivings.  
  
“I see,” he mentally drew up his timetable, “let’s just meet twice a week then.  Once for Potions, and once for Defence Against the Dark Arts.”  It would provide him with a little diversion – Hogwarts was becoming rather boring anyway.  
  
“Oh, thanks!  That’d be great!”  The boy’s grin broke into a dazzling smile, bright enough that it left Snape blinking for an instant, wondering what came over him.  
  
They left the library together and the boy was heading away when Snape realised something.  This time he was the one who called out.  “Wait!”  
  
The boy stopped, throwing a questioning glance over his shoulder.  
  
“I… I don’t know your name,” Snape muttered a little awkwardly.  
  
“Oh,” the boy smiled again, “it’s Remus, Severus Snape.  Remus Lupin.”


	2. Chapter 2

“No, you’re wrong!  It’s not like that…”  His desperate plea draws me back from my memories, back to the present, where an unbreachable gulf divides us.  Staring at his pale, frightened face, it suddenly occurs to me that it was actually a prank, after all.  The greatest prank that could ever be played on me.  
   
***  
   
“I think I’m in love with you.”  The soft whisper drifted into his ears.  It took a while for him, mind engrossed with the intricacies of concocting a potion that would put one into a near-death trance, to register the meaning behind the syllables.  When they finally made their impact, his head jerked up to meet the intense gaze of the other’s grey eyes, all thoughts of spider silk and basilisk blood thrown out of the window.  
   
“I beg your pardon?”  He hardly dared to believe his ears.  The word had never been used that way in relation to him before.  
   
A slow blush was gradually spreading across Lupin’s face.  “I said…” his voice was surprisingly steady, in contrast to the vulnerability in his expression, “I think I’m in love with you.”  
   
It was a full minute before he could speak.  “…why?”  It had only been a scant two weeks that they had known each other.  He couldn’t understand how Lupin could come to such a conclusion so quickly.  
   
Lupin took a deep breath, visibly fortifying himself.  “I… the truth is, I’ve been wanting to get to know you for quite some time.”  Snape searched Lupin’s face for a hint of jest or mockery, but he appeared frightfully sincere.  “I know it’s going to sound strange, but I’ve been a little drawn to you… it’s as if we have some sort of connection.”  
   
As if he was afraid Snape would bolt, he suddenly reached out across the table and grasped Snape’s hand, frozen on top of the books.  “And now, the feelings have become stronger.  I can’t explain it, it just is.”  
   
Snape tugged at the grip around his fingers, and Lupin reluctantly loosened his hold, allowing Snape to reclaim his hand.  “So… what do you want me to do about it?” he asked, eyeing Lupin guardedly as the boy left his seat and came around the table.  
   
Lupin sank on the chair next to his.  “I… I’m not sure myself… but, Severus,” he made as if to touch Snape again, but restrained himself at the last second, clasping his fingers together instead, “do you – do you think we could have a chance?”  
   
“A chance at what?” he asked, although he half-thought he already knew the answer.  
   
This time when Lupin reached for his hand he did not resist.  He stared into pools of shimmering grey as Remus said, “A chance at being – us.”  
   
He let his hand remain in the other boy’s warm grip, his mind a whirl of confusion.  He was painfully aware that he was highly inexperienced when it came to such matters, and it was so hard to think when he could feel Remus’ thumb tracing light circles over the skin on the back of his wrist.  
   
It abruptly occurred to him that his heart was pounding, and when he looked back at Remus, there was a twisting feeling in his gut, something akin to panic, yet was not.  It felt… thrilling, and infinitely better than the blankness that occupied him most of the time.  
   
Should he… and yet, why not?  Wasn’t this better than feeling cold and empty?  
   
He must have made some sound that seemed like assent, because Remus’ face suddenly lit up.  
   
And then Remus’ lips were coming nearer to his, inching closer and closer.  
   
His eyes fluttered shut, and he didn’t resist.


	3. Chapter 3

I’m brought back from the memories by the sound of distress coming from you.  You look so small, timid and afraid.  The confidence and determination you exhibited during these few ill-fated months in pursuing and drawing me out is absolutely nowhere to be seen.  
   
It’s pathetic.  
   
You appear to steel yourself, gearing up for another futile protest.  “No, please Severus, listen to me.  Let me explain, for the sake of our love—”  
   
The mention of that phrase jolts me, even though I’d half-anticipated you would try to sway me from this angle.  I swiftly regroup, forcing a slight sneer onto my features.  “Interesting that you would bring that up.”  I reach out to curl my fingers around the cup, so as to hide their slight trembling as recollections of other times flash across my mind.  
   
A bolt of pain spears through me, so sudden and shocking in its intensity that I can feel my blank façade crumbling.  I bring the cup to my face to hide the flickering emotions, sipping the black liquid until I regain sufficient control to look you in the eye again.  
   
“But I agree with you, I WAS wrong.  About who you were.  About us.  About love.”  I savour the words rolling off my tongue, relishing the way it highlights the despair suffusing your features.  
   
It turns out I have the same depth and capacity for viciousness I once thought was reserved only for creatures like Sirius Black.  
   
***  
   
“Looking for someone, Severus?  Maybe I can help you.”  
   
He stiffened at the question.  Malice was dripping off every word despite its apparent friendliness.  
   
Reluctantly, he turned around to meet the stormy, hostile gaze of Sirius Black.  “Yes,” he gritted out.  “Remus was supposed to meet me.  He wanted some help with yesterday’s Potions class.”  Among other things, was left unsaid, but still hung between them, nearly tangible.  
   
“Oh, did he?”  Black looked like the cat who had not only gotten the canary, but had tortured it, before twisting its head off and eating it.  Clarion bells began ringing in Snape’s head.  
   
“Yes, is he not in the common room?”  Normally, he would not even have deigned to set foot in the hallowed corridors of Gryffindor tower, but Remus had missed their appointment by more than two hours and he was getting concerned.  
   
“No, unfortunately he had some important business to attend to.”  Black knew something – he sounded too gleeful for it to be otherwise.  
   
“I see,” Snape replied curtly, deciding to leave.  He had no intention of remaining here to get baited into whatever Black seemed to be scheming at.  
   
“But aren’t you going to ask me what could be so urgent he would miss your little… rendezvous?”  Black’s silky voice floated towards Snape as he was halfway down the steps, forming an invisible barrier that halted him from moving further.  
   
Doubts were niggling in his mind, singing a lively chorus to the alarm bells clanging.  He had suspected for some time now that Lupin had a secret he was trying to hide.  
   
Every once in a while he would cancel their weekly study sessions, or cut it short without much of an explanation.  And when he reappeared the following day, he would be so subdued and seemingly exhausted.  Snape, high on emotions that he had never experienced before, was usually too preoccupied to press him for an explanation.  
   
Other times when they weren’t studying, kissing, or exploring each other as best as they could, Lupin would ask him questions about himself, making him talk, easing him out of his shell.  “I want to know you better, Severus.  I want to share the secrets you hide beneath that mask.”  
   
But when it was Snape’s turn to demand Lupin’s confidence, he was inevitably distracted by kisses and caresses.  
   
Snape frowned as he came to the unpleasant realisation that he might not truly know who Lupin was at all.  
   
“Someone’s been keeping secrets, haven’t they?”  He restrained himself from reacting to Black’s taunting tone, forcing himself to keep still he felt the other boy slide up behind him.  
   
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”  His sibilant whisper was close to Snape’s ear.  “Go down to the Whomping Willow.  It guards a secret passage that leads to Hogsmeade, and to open it, this is what you have to do…”  
   
***  
   
Curiosity – the downfall of cats and men alike.  I want to wish I had never went down to the Whomping Willow, never picked up the stick and pressed that cursed knot on the trunk of that cursed tree, never jumped down into that hole and followed the passage.  
   
But all that wishing won’t change a single thing.  
   
It won’t change the fact that I was there.  I know now what you’ve been trying to hide, and nothing you do or say can eradicate that knowledge.  
   
I foolishly believed that things were beginning to change for me, since something wonderful had happened.  You.  I thought there was now a place in the world for me and me alone – inside your heart.  
   
Now I see that you never trusted me enough to reveal yourself completely to me.  Was I not good enough, so unworthy compared to them?  
   
I try to obliterate the fact that you tried to kill me, but I can’t.  It’s branded upon my mind.  And it hurts, too much.  Not from any physical wound your werewolf self might have inflicted upon me – Potter drew me back in time – but it still burns all the same.  You raised the veil with which I face the world, forcing me into the harsh, unforgiving light.  The pain is scalding.  
   
I’ve learned a new emotion I’ve never really experienced in its totality – hate.  Deep, unforgiving loathing.  I now know what it’s like to despise someone so much I can’t find the words to fully describe it.  
   
I loathe Sirius Black, for being the callous, indifferent creature that he is.  For attempting to send me to my death over nothing more than a petty grudge.  
   
I hate James Potter, for coming just in the nick of time to save the day.  He didn’t save anything.  There wasn’t any need – I didn’t want to be saved.  
   
Whatever meagre portions of faith and hope that still resided within me had already shrivelled and died, along with my heart.  
   
In its place, hate and viciousness have sunk their venomous roots.  
   
I watch you slump back against your seat, defeated, like a criminal awaiting his sentence.  
   
“I don’t love you anymore.”  
  
I should hate you.  Yet all I feel when I look at you is this blinding rush of pain – how is that possible when my heart lies dead and dust in my chest – and I want you do experience that back threefold.  
   
“It was wrongly given.  I would never love a person who tried to kill me.”  
   
The light is dying from your eyes.  Time for the final twist.  
   
“I could never love a monster.”  
   
Absolute, complete silence.  
   
Gently, I push back my chair, stand, and walk away.  
   
…Strange, the walls and floors have never seemed so blurry before.


End file.
